


The Din'anshiral

by Fen_Ashalen



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, POV Lavellan, POV Solas, Post Trespasser, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Shameless Smut, Solas Smut, Solas is a tease, Solavellan, Trespasser DLC, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Why you gotta play me like that Solas, solavellan hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Ashalen/pseuds/Fen_Ashalen
Summary: Immediately following the conclusion of the events in Dragon Age: Inquisition-Trespassers. Solas a.k.a. Fen'Harel works to find a way to tear down the Veil that separates the waking world of Thedas from the Fade and restore the Elves to their former glory in the days of Elvhenan.





	1. Part One - All New, Faded For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas leaves Lavellan in the Crossroads, putting aside his love for her no matter how much it breaks him. 
> 
> (Solas POV)

Tears fell hot and heavy as he sank to his knees. The composure he so carefully held in place had shattered the instant he stepped through the Eluvian. Walking away from her once was agony. But a second time?

There were no words for the pain that tore through his heart.

Solas pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling the choking sob caught in the back of his throat. Let his anguish be payment. For the Veil, for abandoning The People centuries ago. For every betrayal and fallacy ever uttered from his lips. But his _vhenan_ did not deserve any of the pain his actions visited upon her. And yet..

A shudder rippled down the length of his spine. He stood and surveyed the Crossroads as they lay spread and broken before him. His selfishness and impulsivity had caused this. It had caused her pain. It had caused the Veil and the enslavement and death of countless elves since then. He would not add her name to the list of his sacred dead.

Since the day at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, when Lavellan had reached for the Orb and unknowingly absorbed the magic spilling from its depths, she had bound herself to him. The small voice of doubt had whispered to him, telling him she cared only because of this binding. Her affections were a manipulation of the magic and nothing more. Even now it turned her words against him.

_Var lath vir suledin. Our love is strong enough to withstand this._

She sounded so certain, so confident. Would she say the same now that the Anchor was gone?

He inhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his loss settle around him like a mantle. He would bear this burden too.

As he set down the crumbling path leading to the next eluvian, the toe of his boot caught in a pool of the blood. The slick substance glittered in the ambient lights of the Crossroad. The Qunari had defiled this ancient place leaving a trail of bodies and gore in their wake.

A sneer curled at the corner of his lip. He had dealt with the Viddasala and the rest of her forces easily enough. Their foolish plan to invade the South using the eluvians, _his_  eluvians, would have succeeded if not for the warning he gave to the Inquisition.

He would not see more of the elves fall to the Qun. The fact that so many had turned to it out of desperation, burned like fire in his stomach. Another casualty to add to the list.

He had caused so much pain.

And there would be more to come. The knowledge did nothing to sway him though. He would undo the years of damage one action had cause no matter the cost. For them, for The People, he would gladly pay it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever fanfic! I am a writer by trade, but usually I dwell within the worlds of my own making. After a third play through of Dragon Age: Inquisition with the sole purpose of romancing Solas, I fell deep into the pits of Solavellan hell never to return. This is my way of coping until DA4.
> 
>  
> 
> Translation credits!
> 
> \- Var lath vir suledin ([Cyran9 Tumblr](http://cyran9.tumblr.com/post/128836980834/elven-translation-in-trespasser-spoilers))  
>  
> 
> \- Miscellaneous words in Elvhen not otherwise found in DA:I ([FenxShiral Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8239723?view_adult=true))
> 
>  
> 
> \- Follow me on Tumblr! I post the fic there as well and will answer Q's as well as Dragon Age/Solavellan stuff. [Fen-Ashalen Tumblr](http://fen-ashalen.tumblr.com/post/158515929131/part-one-all-new-faded-for-her?view_adult=true))


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan seeks to understand Solas's action but without the Inquisition, help is in short supply.
> 
> (Female Lavellan POV)

She sank into the cushions of Josephine’s favorite chair. The plush velvet had lost some of its luster since the Antivan first had it brought to Skyhold. But Josephine was not around to comment on the state of the furniture. No one was for that matter.

The keep once held so many people that at times, Lavellan felt almost constricted by the sheer number of limbs, all reaching out for her. No. Not for her, a Dalish elf. They were reaching out for the _Herald of Andraste_. And now, after Corypheus had been defeated and the Inquisition disbanded (publicly at least), there was no longer a need for her.

Orlais had given her titles and holdings, but with little explanation, she had been cast aside.

What an all too familiar feeling.

In the month’s time since the Exalted Council where Lavellan declared the Inquisition officially disbanded, Skyhold had been cleared out of everything. The gardens were quiet, the well tended beds already succumbing to the wild growth without a constant hand. Master Dennant took the horses back to Redcliff, selling the ones he could not house in his stables. The Herald’s Rest stood empty, hollowed out like the husk of a dragon long since dead. That had been a hard blow. Lavellan missed Iron Bull’s raucous laughter, loud enough you could here it clear across the keep.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips remembering how Krem would always try to steal glances at Maryden as she sang for the patrons each night. Before the tragic turn of events at the Exhausted Council, Lavellan had glimpsed the two walking hand in hand. She hoped that happiness would always be theirs.

Lavellan exhaled slowly through her nose and pushed herself up from the chair with a sort of resignation. Skyhold had but an skeleton crew now and there was so much work that still needed to be done.

He was out there, somewhere. Whether his feet touched the lands of Thedas or lingered in the Fade, Solas was out there. And he was not standing idle. Especially since he now held the only key to the Eluvians and the entirety of the Crossroads.

She entered the main hall, the heels of her boots clacking on the stone work, sending sharp echoes up into the rafters. A sudden and fierce emptiness gripped her heart. She now understood why dying alone was Solas’s greatest fear. Without the Inquisition, without her clan, without him, she was tethered to the loneliness and it felt like drowning.

A fine layer of dust coated the desk where he sat in the center of the rotunda. Lavellan didn’t often come into this room, the memories were so thick, they threatened to choke her. But on the days she felt strong enough to sort through them, looking for some answer or clue as to his plans, she spent hours here. She knew that time left echoes in the Fade, but he had left echoes in her heart. And sometimes, if she were patient enough, she could recall a single moment with utter clarity.

***

“ _Lethallan_ , I did not expect you. My apologies, but I must work quickly before the plaster dries.” Solas climbed a few steps to the top of the scaffold and resumed painting.

“Do you mind if I watch? I have seen examples of the art form a handful of times, but nothing like this.”

“I suspect not. The technique is quite difficult and requires a good amount of study to perfect. Most Dalish do not have the desire nor the resources for such things.” He paused, shaking his head. “ _Ir abelas, Lethallan_. That was rather callous of me.”

“Well you are right about one thing, the Dalish certainly don’t have the resources for something like this,” she motioned to the rotunda. “But we are not a monolith, Solas. We are as varried in personality and preferences as any other race.“

"As you constantly prove time and time again. I would be honored, Inquisitor, if you keep me company whilst I finish this panel.”

Lavellan sat back in the chair at Solas's desk and kicked her feet up, narrowly avoiding a stack of books. Solas glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow arched rather imperiously but made no comment. She smiled in return and relaxed against the winged back. They sat in comfortable silence, Lavellan content with watching Solas work as he deftly applied pigment to the wet plaster. The sword of the Inquisition and the all seeing Eye became visible after a short time. Soon followed by wolves flanking either side, their heads thrown back in a howl.

“Wolves?” She asked, as a shiver rippled down her arms causing the fine hairs to stand on end.

“Set aside your superstitions, _Lethallan_. Wolves are not the harbinger of ill fortune as the Dalish would make them out to be. They are pack animals, fiercely loyal to their kin and more protective than any other creature. Much like the members of your Inquisition.”

Lavellan nodded, but the sight of wolves left an uneasy feeling in her gut. She could not see a wolf without Fen'Harel coming to mind. And to have the Dread Wolf associated with her Inquisition evoked a feeling of apprehension that she couldn’t shake.

Now standing in the darkened rotunda, that feeling washed over her once more. How could she not see the truth that stood in front of her? How many times had he tried to tell her but she didn't understand?

She placed her hand over one of the wolves and dipped her head. Tears welled along her lashes as she let out a long, slow sigh. "Come back to me, _Vhenan_. I am so lost without you."

"Not lost. But lonely. Aching blackness. A hole with rough edges and nothing to stop the hurt. Oh gods it hurts. She is _so_ beautiful."

"Cole," Lavellan whispered.

"I want to help."

"I know."

"I can't though. Not this hurt. Only you can make his pain go away."

A sob ripped from Lavellan's lips, the sound distorted by the echo of the round chamber as it bounced along the walls.

"He turned his back on me, Cole. For a second time. He left me broken," she cried holding up her left arm, the hand that once held the Anchor now gone. She could still feel the ghost of the magic that once lived beneath her skin, the raw power that nearly killed her. Had he known all along that she would end up permanently disfigured?

"I don't know how to help Solas. Not when I am filled with the same hurt."

"The same way he helped me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to stay canon as much as possible but at times I have to let my own interpretation guide the story. Solas's frescoes have always been a fascination of mine and I like to think there were clues hidden among the pictures.
> 
> Also, regarding the Lavellan portrayed in this fic, I am writing her POV as I imagine my Lavellan doing things, but I left her physical appearance ambiguous because I wanted anyone to be able to insert their Lavellan into the story. For this reason, I address her by clan name only. 
> 
> Here is a fantastic write-up on fresco painting and how Solas may have went about installing each panel - [Sulanenasalin Tumblr](https://sulahnenasalin.tumblr.com/post/122544768009/lets-talk-solas-frescoes-solas-paintings-are?view_adult=true)
> 
>  
> 
> Words in Elvhen (translation from ([FenxShiral Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8239723?view_adult=true)))
> 
> Lethallan - close female friend  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry  
> Vhenan - Heart (term of endearment between lovers)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan reflects on her current circumstances and the seemingly impossible task of stopping the Dread Wolf from tearing down the veil.
> 
> (Lavellan POV)

"What are you talki--Cole?" Lavellan turned around the rotunda in a slow circle but the spirit had slipped back into the Fade leaving her alone once more. 

 

Lavellan rubbed her hand across her face, weary and defeated. How could she help Solas the way he had helped Cole? It didn't make sense. Then again, very little of what Cole said made sense to her. The only person who ever understood the spirit shaped like a teenage boy was Solas. 

The irony of it was not lost on her. 

She would have to revisit this thought another time. It was late and the better part of the day had been spent trying to decipher some clue in the panels of Solas's frescoes. Other than the vague and mildly frustrating visit from Cole, Lavellan was no closer to figuring out the Dread Wolf's plans than she was a month ago when he had left her on the other side of the Eluvian. 

She grabbed the torch out of the wall sconce and made to leave the rotunda when a flicker of light caught against the wall where the last panel remained unfinished. On it was the rough outline of a large wolf standing over a dragon impaled by a sword, it's head lowered as if cowed by shame. Teeth bared from fear or anger, she couldn't tell. She hadn't noticed that before, the panel's unfinished imagery never grabbing her attention until now. 

Something about the slain dragon gave her pause. 

"Mythal," she whispered into the dark. 

What did Solas say? The Evanuris had killed Mythal and he created the Veil to imprison them out of revenge. Flemeth claimed she desired revenge for the goddess as well. 

Was this last panel a depiction of the All Mother's fate? Did Solas plan to finish it as a way of telling her the truth of him? There had been a moment in Crestwood, after Solas had removed her vallaslin. Lavellan could see the struggle on his face. She assumed it had to do with her, but what if it had been for another reason? Had he attempted to tell her that night? 

The frustration festered beneath her skin. It consumed her, left her restless with no end in sight. But she couldn't walk away. Not from this. Not from him. Nothing else mattered anymore. If she had to save the world again, she would save the man she loved while doing it. 

Somehow this was worse than fighting Corypheus. The fallen magister had been truly evil and utterly terrifying. The destruction of the world imminent if he were to succeed in his plans. And yet, it was a simple matter of duty. She had the power to defeat him and close the Breach. And with the rest of the Inquisition by her side, she knew they would succeed. 

How was she supposed to fight this? Stopping Solas was paramount. But it wasn't the same as before. There was so much more at stake now and it threatened to bury her beneath the weight of it all.

Lavellan trudged up the flight of stairs to her quarters. One of the few remaining servants had come in earlier to turn down the bed and light a fire in the hearth. It blazed now, filling the room with a delicious warmth. She placed the torch in a sconce near her desk and sat down in the chair to remove her boots, fumbling with each buckle in turn. 

She still had difficulty doing many things one handed, and some she would never be able to do again. But it wasn't in her nature to give up on something just because it proved difficult. Life had given her many challenges over the years and this was just one more. She could over come it like all the rest. 

Exhaustion curled around her, settling into her bones. She glanced at the stack of papers on her desk and shrugged. They could wait until tomorrow. As well as the letters Varric and Cassandra had written. Though she suspected if they knew she was putting off her replies, both would be offended. 

She slipped off the rest of her clothes and pulled a shift over her head before sliding beneath the thick coverlet on her bed. Sleep took her with in minutes and she sank into dark and fretful dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am kind of using this fic to work through some of my own theories for the next game (hopefully)! I love a good swoony romance, but nothing gets me like figuring out a puzzle, and my Egg is nothing short of one!
> 
> Much swooning to come though!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another day of trying to figure out the Dread Wolf's plans, Lavellan falls asleep only to be visited by her lover in the Fade.
> 
> (Lavellan POV)
> 
> Slightly NSFW content ahead.

The trees pressed in around her, their branches tangled together like the arms of two lovers in a permanent embrace. The wind sighed as it twisted through her hair. She knew this place, these woods. Lavellan turned on her heels searching the darken corners of the forest that surrounded her. He was here. She could feel his presence like a second heartbeat, forever keeping pace with hers.

 

“Solas, please,” she begged. “ _Ar lath ma, Vhenan."_

It wasn’t the first time he had come to her while she dreamt, pulling her subconscious into the Fade. And like each time, he remained hidden from her sight, his reasons only know to him. But this time there was a sadness that hung heavy and thick like a fog.

“You can’t keep doing this to me. _Ra tel’tundra._ " Tears slipped from her eyes as she pressed them shut, willing herself to wake up. 

A feather-light touch ghosted the side of her hip. Lavellan inhaled sharply, but stayed still, scared that if she moved even the slightest he would leave. 

" _Vhenan._ ” His breath was warm against her ear, tickling the hairs tucked behind the tip. His hands slid up to her waist and tightened as he pulled her back up against him. She almost wept from being so close to him once more, to have his lithe body pressed up against hers. "I have missed you." His lips grazed the side of her neck sending a shiver down the length of her spine. 

Lavellan turned slowly, holding her breath, willing him to stay for a moment more. She lifted her hand and hesitated before placing it on the side of his face. Heartache knitted his brows together as he leaned into her touch. 

"Solas," she whispered. 

He shook his head and turned to leave and Lavellan reached for him one last time. She grabbed the folds of his cloak, forcing him to face her. 

"Stay with me."

She could see the emotions warring in his eyes: anguish and longing, determination and unending sadness. They were the same emotions mirrored in her own gaze. 

Lavellan braved a step closer, and another until there was nothing between them except his armor and the thin fabric of her night shift. She tilted her head up slightly, her lips a breath apart from his. "Please," she murmured.

In an instant, his lips were on hers, soft at first, the depth of his loneliness apparent in the tender touch. She reached up and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He growled low against her lips and dragged his palm down the length of her back, gripping the curve of her backside, his kiss becoming more urgent by the moment. 

Lavellan gasped as Solas pushed her up against the base of a tree, pinning her with the weight of his body. The rough bark bit at the back of her legs through her shift. He gripped her waist, and pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss, parting her lips with his tongue. 

Heat exploded in her core as time slowed to an near stop. The Fade had a way of making moments feel like years. Each touch seemed to last an eternity. She could spend the rest of her life in this moment with him. 

Solas pulled back for a second, his eyes burned with desire. He lazily ran a thumb across her swollen lips. "You are so beautiful." 

He leaned in to kiss her once more, dropping a hand to the hem of her shift and slid his palm underneath the fabric, caressing her skin. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he moved up the smooth planes of her stomach and cupped her breast, his fingers teasing at her nipple. With his other hand, he reached for her leg and pulled it around him, pressing into her harder. She moaned in reply, thrusting her hips out to meet his. 

"Stay with me," she breathed as he slipped his hand between her legs. 

" _Vhenan_ ," Solas pleaded, as he pulled away, his face drawn. 

"Solas, please!"

"We cannot do this _."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. I didn't intend to bring the smut just yet, but c'est la vie. The romantic relationship between Solas and Lavellan has always been a complicated one and left me feeling rather unsatisfied. There is enough context clues within the game to believe the two had a sexual relationship - the exchange between Solas and Lavellan during Trespassers, after he remarks "What is the old Dalish saying, May the Dread Wolf take you?" Lavellan can reply "And that he did." To which Solas says "I would never lay with you under false pretenses." It's pretty clear (to me anyway) that they were more intimate than the cut scenes showed.
> 
> And apologies for the ending! As a friend said after she read it, "Besides being an ancient rebel god anti-hero, Solas, you're also a goddamn tease!"
> 
> \----------
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Ar lath ma, Vhenan - I love you, (my) heart.
> 
> Ra tel’tundra - It is not kind/unkind (my humble attempt at crafting and Elvhen sentence. Please be kind as I am sure I butchered the grammatics)
> 
> Vhenan - Heart/ My heart
> 
> All translation credit goes to FexShiral - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8237548 and the Elvhen translator - https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is torn between his desire to stay with his love and his mission to tear down the Veil.
> 
> (Solas POV)

Lavellan sank to her knees. "No, Solas," she cried. " _Tel'sal_. _Min emen diana."_

 

 

_"Lanasta em, Vhenan._ It was wrong of me to come here. I will not make the same mistake again."

"Please don't go. I can't lose you again."

Solas reached for her, pulling her up off the ground into an embrace. "There is no happiness for us. Not in this life.

" _Vir lath sa'vunin_."

" _Ar lath ma, Vhenan."_

_***_

It was wrong. He should not have visited her in the Fade while she slept, but his selfish desire to see her, to hold her once more had gotten the better of him. 

 

 

He had made love to her for possibly the last time, but it had not been enough. It would never be. Not even if he had a thousand years to spend wrapped in her arms, their bodies forever twined together. As he caressed the swell of her breasts with his tongue, he regretted it. And when she climaxed, he wished to take it all back. 

She did not deserve this. 

He left her with a soft kiss between her brows and a promise to return, but he could not keep it for ever. There would come a time where he could not return to her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Finding Mythal's orb should be his primary focus. Nothing was more important than that. Without it, the Veil would remain and he would fail. And failure was not an option. 

The orb was still intact, that much he knew to be true. Mythal had said as much before she released her essence to him. He could feel it now, here in the Fade, far away like a memory distorted by time. Yet none of the leads had turned up anything new. 

A knock at his chamber door brought him back from the Fade and to the present moment. 

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but we have an update to the situation with the Qunari," a voice called from the hallway. 

Solas stood from the chair he had fallen asleep in. His chamber was cold, the fire that had been lit the previous night now nothing but cold ash. He had spent far too many hours in the Fade. 

He opened the door and motioned for the agent to join him in front of the hearth. 

"Apologies are not necessary. I have been anticipating a response to this matter," He said as he coaxed a few embers back to life with a bit of magic. "Please continue."

"Thank you, Sir. Our reports say the Chantry is demanding an explanation for Dragon's Breath and any possible interference with the Exalted Council, but the Ariqun won't speak on the matter. There are speculations that the Viddasala was not acting on her own. There are also rumors of meetings being held in Par Vollen."

"What is the purpose of these meetings?"

"The Qunari are changing tactics, it would seem."

"Tevinter then," Solas mused. Heat drifted up from the newly lit fireplace and filled the chamber, chasing away the draft that seemed to cling to the stones. He flexed his hand, releasing the threads of magic. 

"Yes, Sir."

"And what of the Inquisition? Are they truly disbanded?"

"It look to be true, Sir. Most of the occupants of Skyhold have left and the Lady Lavellan spends her days in relative solitude. Aside from the occasional letter, activity has come to a standstill."

Solas frowned. That was not the response he had expected. Lavellan was not one to give up. The thought rankled him.

"Anything else of importance?"

"No, Sir."

"Thank you. _Dareth shiral_ "

The agent dipped his head before exiting the chamber, leaving Solas alone with the new information. He needed an army for the days to come and no better place to find soldiers than in a newly destabilized Imperium that could no longer control their slave population. And yet, the thought of the Inquisition being undone and Lavellan on her own soured in his stomach. But he could not dwell on such matters. His attention must remain on the Veil and finding Mythal's orb.

"One last thing," Solas called out to the agent before he disappeared back through the eluvian. "Inform your mistress I require her presence. The time has come for her to choose a side."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much speculation! I am utterly convinced there is more than one orb floating around Thedas. And if Solas had one, why not Mythal or any of the other Evanuris? It is an interesting thought, at least.
> 
> Also, tormented Solas is my favorite Solas.
> 
> \----------
> 
> Translations!
> 
> Tel'sal. Min emen diana. - Don't. This must stop.
> 
> Lanasta em. - Forgive me.
> 
> Vir lath sa'vunin. - Our love can have one more day.
> 
> Ar lath ma, Vhenan. - I love you, (my) Heart.
> 
> Dareth shiral. - Safe journey.
> 
> All translation credit goes to FenxShiral/Project Elvhen - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3719848/chapters/8239723?view_adult=true and the Elvhen translator - https://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI
> 
> As always, I am making the best guess at the words spoken in Elvhen. Please forgive any mistakes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan gets a visit from a former member of the Inquisition. 
> 
> (Lavellan POV)

"This is most unpleasant."

"I'm sorry?"

Lavellan trailed after Cassandra as she stepped through the entry way of Skyhold's main structure.

"I can't believe it's actually true. We spent so many months here and now it's...you shouldn't be alone in this place." Cassandra turned to face Lavellan, her brows pinched together.

Lavellan laughed at the familiar sight. How often had Cassandra looked at her that way? At first it held suspicion, but now concern was laced into the fierce glare.

"You sound like Dorian," she chuckled and sat down by the large hearth in what was once Varric's favorite spot. "I'm fine Cassandra. Really."

"It worries me to think of you here, so far from everyone after what happened. I understand your reasoning, but I wish you would reconsider."

"I appreciate your concern, but if we are to have any sort of privacy, Skyhold is our best option. Neither Orlais or Feraldan can keeps tabs on me up here. Or anyone else for that matter." Not unless Solas was spying on her while she slept, but after last night she couldn't turn him away even if she had suspicions. Heat flooded into her cheeks at the memory of his touch. He was right though, what they did was so very foolish.

"You are right, Inqui--Lavellan." Cassandra shook her head. "I shall never get used to calling you something other than Inquisitor."

Cassandra's comment brought Lavellan back to the present. A tired smile pulled at her lips. "You know, I was someone before I was Inquisitor Lavellan or the Herald of Andraste."

"I know and I am sorry for not remembering that." Cassandra paused. "Have you spoken to your clan?"

Lavellan pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn't want to talk about this. No matter how much she trusted Cassandra, the pain was too deep that it threatened to swallow her whole.

"Not since Wycome." She choked back the shame burning in her gut. Returning was impossible. Her keeper had sent a handful of letters after the battle with Corypheus, but when Lavellan didn't respond, they eventually stopped. It had been more than a year since she heard from Deshanna.

"Surely they would understand."

"Cassandra, please. Leave it be." Lavellan absentmindedly reached up to touch her forehead where the mark of Ghilan'nain had once been, the skin now smooth as if the  _vallaslin_ had never been carved.

"I'm sorry, I should not have pressed the matter.

Lavellan shook her head. Even if her clan took her back, she didn't know if she could return to the Dalish life. Not after what she had learned. Solas had been right about her people. He had been right about so many things. She pressed her eyes shut, banishing his image from her mind. Thinking like this wouldn't get her anywhere or accomplish anything. She needed to focus.

"Tell me about the Exalted Council? What news do you have?"

Cassandra nodded, a sad smile settled across her face. "Divine Vic--Leliana has reached out to the Imperium, but the Magisters are too busy bickering among themselves. What little we have heard, it seems the rumors are true."

"The Qunari are amassing forces in Seheron, like Dorian said."

The Seeker nodded. "I do not like this, Lavellan. There is more at work than what we know of."

"I agree," she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. The situation was frustrating. Lavellan knew something else was going on, that Solas was planning something while the world looked elsewhere. "Cassandra," she sat forward, a look flashing across her face and grabbed the Seeker's hand. "The elves."

Lavellan stood abruptly, a wild energy coursing through her limbs. She knew what he was planning - at least part of it. What was that old Dalish legend about Fen'Harel? He tricked Andruil and Anaris into fighting each other while he escaped their grasp.

He was doing it again.

Solas knew that with the rest of Thedas tangled in a war with the Qunari, he could go about his plans with no one looking. She smiled at the simplicity. He didn't even have to do anything except wait. And he was so very good at waiting.

"Tell Leliana, the Nightingale's services are needed once again. I must speak to Dorian, but I will be in contact soon," she called to Cassandra over her shoulder as she took off to her quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lack of internet has made it difficult to update properly, but everything is up and running now, so expect semi-regular updates!
> 
> So while I had limited access to the internet, I read The Masked Empire by Patrick Weekes! The legend of Fen'Harel tricking Andruil and Anaris is mentioned in the book and I think it is a really good tie in to how the Dread Wolf will behave in future games. 
> 
> If you want to read a messy review or any of my DA obsessing, you can follow me on [Tumblr](https://fen-ashalen.tumblr.com/).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan confirms her suspicions about the missing Elves.
> 
> (Lavellan POV)

The crystal pendant sat on a small pronged pedestal at one corner of her desk. She reached for it, heat curling from its center around her grasp. Despite not knowing exactly how it worked, the stone reacted to her touch and was able to link across the Fade to an identical pendant in Dorian's possession. 

 "Ah, I was just wondering if you were avoiding me because you had grown tired of my unparalleled wit or if being tucked away in that drafty old keep was beginning to affect your mental health." Dorian's warm voice filled the room. 

Lavellan smiled. She missed Dorian the most out of her former companions. Before the conclave, she never would have thought that a mage from Tevinter would become one of her closest friends. Then again, a number of unimaginable things had happened since that fateful day. 

"How are you Dorian?"

"Splendid. Being a Magister has a lot more perks than I initially thought. Not only do I spend my days bickering with the other Magisters, but I also get to dodge awful rumors about my torrid love affair with a Dalish Inquisitor."

"Still?" Lavellan cringed. Her time spent at the Winter Palace had taught her that rumors could fuel a political career just as much as actual politics. She couldn't imagine the sort of effect these rumors had on Dorian in a place like the Imperium. 

“Always, I’m afraid. The Game does not stop just because the world almost did and you will be the talk of many late night gossip sessions for quite some time. Though I do get a kick out of the eye brow raising."

Lavellan hesitated for a moment, uncertainty twisting her stomach into a knot. What if her suspicions were unfounded and she ended up causing trouble for her friend? "Dorian, I need to ask you something, but I can't tell you why just yet."

"I suspected this wasn't a social call."

"I'm sorry, Dorian. It's just that I have a suspicion that I need to vet."

"No, it's quite alright. I suppose it's better than you moping around. Ask me your question and I will tell you what I know."

She hated to hear the pity buried beneath his words. After all, it had been Dorian that weathered the tears, the fury and the bitterness that followed in the days after the Crossroads. Not once did he shame her for wanting to save Solas or try to convince her otherwise like the rest had. 

No, Dorian had held her together when she didn't have the strength to do so herself. When everyone else was waiting for her to break. 

She sucked in a breath, hoping she was wrong and asked the question before she changed her mind. "Have there been reports of Eleven slaves going missing?"

A low humming sound filtered through the stone, sending a shiver up the length of Lavellan's arm. "Now that is an interesting question. If only I were as devious as some of the Magisters I know, I would withhold my answer until I knew exactly why you asked it. But as I am not, I can only keep my word and tell you what I can on the matter."

"Thank you, Dorian,"Lavellan breathed. Her fingers prickled as she unconsciously gripped the stone harder, waiting for her suspicion to be confirmed. 

"It would seem," he began, the smooth sounds of his voice slightly distorted from the magic of the communication stone, "that while the attentions of the Magisters have been on Seheron and the very large number of Qunari arriving daily, Eleven slaves began to disappear."

Lavellan bit her lip. She could guess where this was going, but she didn't stop Dorian. She needed to know for certain. 

"It was consequential at first, a handful of Eleven slaves vanished and the only people who seem to care are the ones who now have to fetch their own wine. But as each day passed, the number of slaves missing grew as did the number of Tevinter nobles crying fowl play and demanding retribution." Dorian let out a bitter laugh. "Never mind the fact that people are missing, spoiled nobles are inconvenienced!” Lavellan winced as his anger sent a blinding flash of light through the stone, setting the inside ablaze. She waited for a moment as the light faded and the pulsing energy returned to a dim rhythm.

“What do the other Magisters say”

“Oh they want to blame the Qunari, naturally. Or the handful of Ventori that remain,” Dorain paused for a moment. “But neither is correct, is it?”

“I can’t say for certain just yet.”

Laughter filled the room, echoing off the stone ceiling. “Of course not!” Dorian replied with a chuckle. “Where’s the fun in that? But do promise me that you will let me in on this secret eventually. I hate being the last to know something."

Despite herself, Lavellan smiled. "I would be lost without you, Magister Pavus."

“I am most certain you would be," Dorian laughed again. "Why else do you think I have stuck by you for so long?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short-ish chapter while I get back into the swing of this story and work through some plot points. Plus Dorian. Because I love Dorian and will use any excuse to write him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan recalls the night at the Winter Palace and is visited by her lover in the Fade.

She picked up the letter and read the contents again. Leliana had confirmed the reports of numerous Orlesian elven servants leaving their positions without so much as a warning or a word. The alienage in Val Royeaux had reported disappearances as well - not that Orlais cared much about them. But the missing servants had caused quite the uproar. Apparently cheap labor was hard to come by. 

It was the same story all across Thedas. The elves were gone. Not all of them of course, but enough to give her pause. 

Solas was amassing an army. But for what? Did he truly plan to wage war on all of Thedas? She didn't think he would go that far. Though she couldn't be sure. As much as she thought she knew him, he still managed to surprise her. There had been times, though, where the mask Solas so carefully held in place had slipped and she glimpsed a fraction of the Evanuris that had lived thousands of years ago. She remembered how being at the Winter Palace had changed his demeanor so much that she almost couldn’t reconcile the two side of him. Even still, she was intrigued by the bold and confident elf he had been in Halamshiral.

The candles burned low in their holders, casting flickering shadows of flames along the stone walls of her chambers in Skyhold. Time had little meaning as of late. She spent day and night pouring over ancient texts, reading what ever reports her remaining scouts could put together and the occasional letter from a former companion. Lavellan cast a side long glance at Leliana’s letter again. She knew publicly disbanding the Inquisition was the right move, but it had been so much harder doing things in secret. It was the only way to stay safe from what ever attack may come from what ever side. 

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the padding of the chair at her desk, banishing the thoughts that kept her up at night. Instead she walked back to the memory of the night at the Winter Palace. Solace had been right, it was an intoxicating environment. She had surprised herself with how well she had played the Game. Not only had she manipulated Florianne into capture, but she had also secured Celene’s throne and put Briala in a position of power.

And Solas had danced with her on the balcony of the Winter Palace, underneath the starry sky. Up until that point, he had been so reserved with his affections. But that night…

Lavellan loosed a slow breath through her lips, sinking deeper as the memory slid along her skin like the faint caress of her lover. She had not known the fire that burned in the depths of his heart until that night. The heat almost consumed her now.

“You always did surprise me, but after Halamshiral, I could no longer deny that you were my equal,” Solas’s voice cut through the haze, forcing Lavellan to open her eyes. She was no longer in Skyhold, but stood at the top of the stairs of the Winter Palace. Solas stood in the middle of the ballroom floor, his hand opened, waiting for her to join him. She wore a gauzy white gown, cinched at the waist with braids of golden thread, a high collar made from the same gold weave and arm bands to match. It was such different attire to the formal uniform of the Inquisition she had worn. Solas looked drastically different as well - a long black tunic and pants, fitted with the same golden embellishments as her own garments. She suspected this was something more along the lines of fashion in the days of Arlathan.

There was something different in his posture as well. He stood straighter, proud and tall, almost regal. He regarded her with a half smile and an imperiously arched eyebrow. Maybe it was the setting he chose, or that he had sought her out this time, or something she wouldn’t understand; but the broken, lonely Solas that had left her last was not here. She took her time walking down each step, letting him take in his fill of her, enjoying the sensation of his eyes hungrily roam across her form. Tonight he was a predator, the wolf incarnate - Fen'Harel.

But she was no halla.

No, she was not a naive creature and she knew that he did not consider her to be one. This was the Game, but only the two of them would be playing. 

She walked the length of the ballroom until she stood a breath from him and reached out with a delicate touch, sliding her fingers up the golden braces affixed to the sleeves of his tunic. 

"And now," she purred. 

"My undoing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things were getting a little too heavy so I needed to write some flirting!
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://nipuni.tumblr.com/post/142254749065/sweet-talker-tipsy-elves-flirting-in-elven) amazing drawing of Solas and Lavellan done by Nipuni!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas "entertains" Lavellan in the Fade.
> 
> (Solas POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeyy. So this chapter is 100% NSFW and it is all smut, no story. Feel free to skip if that's not your thing, Next chapter will pick up the plot again.

A shadow of misunderstanding flickered across her eyes before Solas wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, crushing his lips to hers. She truly was his undoing. No matter how hard he tried, he could not let go of her. He could not banish the memory of her. And now, as her body curved to his, her breathless voice urging him, he lost all sense of purpose except to be with her.

Maybe he was already undone. 

His hands knotted in the fabric of her gown as he pulled her closer to him and kissed her deeper still. The desire he had felt that night at the Winter Palace came back to him, magnified by the Fade. He would claim her as his, now in this moment. He would claim her as he never had the courage to do so before.

" _Vhenan_ ,” she moaned as he gripped her to him.

“You are mine,” he growled.

The scenery of the Winter Palace shifted and swirled around them, giving way to some place else. An echo from a memory. He could not think as to why the Fade had reformed to this. Maybe a long buried part of himself had conjured this place from his desire to claim her, to make her his. It did nothing to dissuade him. No, it only increased the longing he so carefully tucked away in the deepest recesses of his heart. For this was the culmination of his desire - to have her by his side in the place that had once been his home.

Solas relinquished his hold on Lavellan for a moment, just long enough to take in the view he had never let himself fully recall. The day they had stepped foot into the Arbor Wilds among the ruins of Mythal’s Temple had nearly broken him. To see his home succumb to the ravages of time and the devastation of the Veil was a blade piercing his soul. But now he allowed the Fade to pull from his memories and shape itself into the verdant forest of his youth. He led Lavellan down a paved walkway through a canopy of twisting vines and emerald leaves until they reached a garden. All around them was a wash of color, bright as the sun. The scenery reacted to his presence, growing and flourishing with every step he took toward the center of the secluded place. This had been a place of respite for him in the days of Arlathan. Here he would seek out the company of Spirits and spend hours trading knowledge with the ethereal beings.

Lavellan had tensed beside him as he led her further into this world of his. What she thought of it, he could only speculate. But a small part hoped she could find an understanding of what he had lost. And what he had endured after he had awoken to find all of this gone. Despite the hesitation he sensed from her, Lavellan followed him willingly to the raised platform in the center of the garden. He guided her up the steps and between the gleaming white pillars wrapped in vines, bright yellow flowers peaking through the lush greenery, filling the air around them with their cloying scent. Neither of them spoke as he lowered her down among the silks and overstuffed pillows that decorated the floor. He knelt over her for a moment savoring the hunger that burned in his blood. 

He placed a hand at the base of her neck and slid his fingers languidly down the hollow between her breasts. A feral grin curled along his lips as she hitched a breath and arched her back, bending to his touch. He gripped the fabric of her gown and with a fierce, swift motion, ripped it down the center exposing the smooth skin beneath. “You are mine,” he breathed as he bent down and traced the planes of her stomach with his tongue, his teeth, his lips. Her fingers glided over the top of his head, caressing the skin, wordlessly urging him. He let out a chuckle and obliged, slipping a finger down into the warmth between her legs and relished the soft little gasp that escaped her lips. She was his. For as long as time and the Fade would allow. 

A louder moan sounded as he spread her legs further and bent his head, leaving a trail of kisses on her inner most thigh. He wrapped his hands around her hips, pulled her closer and slid his tongue between her warm, wet folds, dragging the tip from bottom to top, slowly, teasingly, smiling as she wriggled under his grasp. When he reached the little bundle of nerves at the apex, he pulled it between his teeth and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. She groaned louder, more desperate, as he slid his fingers deep into her while he continued to suck and bite and lick. He took his time, enjoying every elicit sound she made from his touch, until he brought her to the very edge of climax and with a wicked grin, he stopped and sat back on his heels. He regarded her spread before him - her face flush and glowing, her bare chest rising and falling with rapid breath. She was more beautiful than he ever allowed himself to see. To understand. The handful of times they had made love before the end, he had not let himself fully be with her. He could not bare his soul to her. He could not claim her as his. But he was done hiding. He was done waiting.

“Solas,” Lavellan murmured as she sat up, her eyes dark and round, sweat beads dotted her hairline. He reached out and cupped the side of her face with his palm and leaned in, kissing her full on the mouth. She opened her mouth to his and deepened the kiss, caressing his tongue with hers. A burning need lit his skin on fire as she ran her fingers down his chest until they came to the laces of his pants. Making quick work of the knots, she dragged the fabric down the sides of his hips, taking his resolve with with them.

He kicked off the pants and lifted the tunic he still wore over his head, flinging it behind him. Lavellan reached forward and pulled his hips to her, guiding his erect cock toward her center. He paused for a moment as he knelt over her. Their eyes locked and a thousand unsaid things passed between them. All the hurt and lies and pain. The longing and sadness. The unbreakable love they had for one another. He kissed her once more before sliding the full length of his cock into her, groaning from the slick heat. "You are mine," he growled low as he pulled out and slid back in all the way to the base. She cried out and arched her back, her hips thrust out, grinding against him. 

They moved together and wave after wave of pleasure shook his body. He lost all sense of himself as he pushed deeper into her as she open around his thickness. A fierce hunger tore through him and he buried his face in her hair, frantically kissing her neck and shoulder. She let out a loud groan as he bit the soft skin above her collar bone and thrust harder, faster. He was near release when she reached for him and held his face above hers. 

"And you are mine," she breathed as she stared into his eyes. Her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut as she climaxed, her muscles constricted and sent a shock of heat and wet around his cock. He gripped her and moved faster as he reached his own climax, urged on by the tightness of her center. A rush of brilliant, blinding light exploded as he came into her, his hips rolling and thrusting with the last of his desire. 

He pressed his forehead to her. "I am yours," he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gotten carried away there...
> 
> Vhenan - heart/my heart


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas seeks help in finding Mythal's orb.
> 
> (Solas POV)

He lingered in the Fade after they had parted. His skin still buzzed with the memory of her touch and he ran a finger across his swollen lips. It had been impulsive to reach for her while she slept. But he no longer cared. If these were the last moments he had with her, then let it be what he could never give before. A scowl settled along his forehead. Recalling the memory of his time in the Arbor Wilds had sparked something in the Fade. He had felt it, a recognition of something long buried. It called to him.  

Rather, it called to the piece of Mythal he now carried.  

He searched now, looking for that dim little spark hidden among the twisting nature of the Fade. Had he imagined it? Had the Fade pulled too much from his memory and crafted a false impression of the thing he was so desperately searching for? No. It was a whisper calling out to him, but he had not heeded it’s voice. A growl tore from deep in his throat. Would it always be like this? Must he always choose between his love and his duty? 

Once there had only been duty. A righteous, proud thing he wore like the finest armor. And yet, if it had not been for that unwavering allegiance to Mythal, he would have had no cause to seek her justice. He would not have created the Veil. Fury clenched around his heart, shredding it to pieces between vicious sharp teeth. The faces of those who had dared to stand against Mythal swam into view, taking shape in the swirling aether around him. Taunting him even now. 

Green light flickered at his fingertips as he waved a hand and dispelled the image. It was dangerous to let his mind drift this far into his memories when the Fade was so responsive. Instead, he turned his attention to that faint whisper and began his hunt. 

# 

Minutes, hours, maybe even days had passed before he awoke and returned to the world outside of the Fade. He was still no closer to his prize, but it was out there. The heavy thrum of power called even as it lay buried in the deep recesses of the wilds. 

The part of him that was now Mythal could do no better. The orb remained hidden from her presence as well. As if it were a petulant child who had resorted to sulking after being left along for so long. He huffed in annoyance. It had taken him a better part of a year to find the orb that had once been his, the magic asleep inside as familiar to him as his own heart beat. And still locating it had proven difficult. But time had been a friend to him. He had the luxury of spending weeks searching a long forgotten path. But now time was no longer on his side. Time was his enemy. The orb must be found if he had any chance at all.   

There must be some way to find it. Some clue he was overlooking. 

Solas paced the length of a crumbling parapet that overlooked a wide and deep valley. The stonework, much like Skyhold, had begun the slow process of decay over the millennia. And just like the massive keep, this place had once been a shelter. He had brought countless elves here in the years after Mythal's death when he raged war against the other Evanuris. With the key to the eluvians now his, this place could once again be a shelter. Already it housed some of his more trusted spies.  

And one displaced sentinel. 

Mythal had encouraged him to seek the sentinel out after the defeat of Corypheus. Yet she did not say why his presence here would be necessary. Solas thought it was some long faded desire to care for those who had served her, as she had once done for him. But now a voice whispered deep in his subconscious to question the elf and test the limits of his knowledge. And his loyalty. 

Solas turned on his heels and followed the dilapidated ramparts toward a stairwell that lead to the innermost section of the keep. He swept through the narrow halls, passing a handful of elves along the way. Everyday more came. Everyday more stared at him with wide eyes full of disbelief. He ignored the whispers now as he turned a corner and hurried up a flight of stairs to a reclusive wing where few others were housed. When the elf came through the eluvian to the keep, he asked for solitude and nothing more. Solas granted it to him. He understood the shock of the world as it was now. He understood the need to be alone. But he could no longer afford to be compassionate. If the elf knew something about the orb, then Solas would gain that knowledge, by force if need be. 

The room was small and sparsely furnished: a bed with a thread-bare blanket, a small table where the elf took his meals in silence and an old wooden chair facing a stone hearth in which he now sat. He held a metal rod in his hand and was bent over the hearth, tending to the embers that sat nested in the wood along the bottom. Even with the burning logs, a chill clung to the walls and Solas shivered. He wasn’t sure if it had to do with the cold or not. 

The elf didn’t move as Solas stepped over the threshold and entered the room. Nor did he turn to face him when he spoke. “I know what you seek,” he said poking a log. “But I shall not aid you in your quest. Not this time.” 

Solas bristled at the blunt response to the question he did not ask. “Would you be so quick to dismiss the one you serve?” 

“You released me from that duty!” The elf leapt up from the chair, sending it clattering to the floor. Anguish and fury burned in his yellow eyes. “You released me into this broken world and now you would have me destroy what is left of it!" 

“I would have you fight along side your kin,” Solas snarled as he paced forward until he was a breath away from the elf. “I would have you restore what was lost.” 

Abelas let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “At what cost?” 

“What ever is necessary.” Solas’s glare cut to the fire. Memories sprang to life among the flames. He saw her happiness in the way her eyes crinkled just slightly at the corners as her laughter echoed far up into the rafters. He saw the raw pain across her naked face once the vallaslin had been removed. He saw the strength in the way she stood against a demon of fear and refused to be shaken. A very selfish part of him was glad he would not see what the cost would do to her. 

Because his duty would cost him his life. And he would choose it every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a tough chapter to write! I'm not sure what it was about it, but it took a lot longer to finish. Many apologies!
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos! It really does make a difference when you are stuck on a chapter to know that there are people who enjoy what you are writing. All the hearts! <3<3<3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More elves are going missing, one in particular. Lavellan seeks Morrigan's advice on the matter and learns some troubleing news.
> 
> (Lavellan POV)

"'Tis reassuring to know that there are those willing to stand against the end of the world yet again."

Lavellan gave a halfhearted shrug and sat down next to Morrigan on the wrought iron bench in the garden. She surveyed her surroundings and let out a small sad sigh. It hadn't take long for nature to reclaim this spot of green. Weeds filled the once carefully tended beds. Vines had begun to climb along the stone work. There was something in the unkempt look of the garden that echoed her own state of being. 

"If I may ask, why do you still linger here?" Morrigan eyed her from the corner of her yellow eyes, a slight frown creased her forehead. 

"This place has become my home." It was true enough. But there was so much more to it. She had found purpose here in Skyhold. It had once housed people she grew to love as family. It had been a shelter in so many ways.

And it had been his so very long ago. 

She couldn't admit it, not even to herself. But Skyhold was the one remaining thing that linked her to Solas and she couldn’t abandon it, not after everything. So she stayed with the ghosts of her past and carried on in spite of it all.

“I see,” was all the witch said in reply.

Lavellan pulled out a scrap of parchment from a pocket in her pants and handed it to Morrigan. “I received this several days before I contacted you. Leliana is concerned.” She watched as Morrigan’s eyes quickly scanned the contents of the letter. When she had written to Leliana about the missing elves, the former spy master had taken a personal interest in it and kept close tabs on those in high positions of power. There were few, but one in particular had more power and influence than any elf ever had. And when the lover of the Empress suddenly disappeared along with her entire network of spies, Leliana took notice. “What do you know of her?”

Morrigan was silent for a moment. She carefully creased the letter and handed it back to Lavellan. “Before the Orlesian civil war,” she began quietly, “the Empress and Briala were lovers, as I am sure you are aware. There were those who used this knowledge to their advantage - Grand Duke Gaspard, for instance.”

“He tried to blackmail Empress Celene.”

“Correct, Lady Lavellan. The Empress retaliated and struck out against the alienage in Halamshiral causing Briala to leave her side and take up the plight of her people.”

“Yes, I am aware of the causes of the civil war, Morrigan. I was the one who ended it, if you recall.”

“’Tis true, but as instrumental as you were, you do not know the entirety of it.”

“And what is it that I don’t know?” Lavellan frowned.

“How is it that I came to be in the service of the Empress?”

“I don’t think you ever shared that bit of information, Morrigan.”

The witch let out a low chuckle. “No I did not.” She stood from the bench and began walking amongst the tangle of weeds, plucking a yellow flower from one of the stems. She twirled it between her fingers and smiled. “As you know, I was an advisor of sorts to the Empress. Many assumed I advised her on matters of the arcane, but that was not the case.”

Lavellan regarded the witch cautiously. She often dealt in half-truths, revealing what information she felt necessary at the time. When ever Morrigan spoke, there were far more things she left unsaid.

“During the civil war, Briala came upon something ancient and powerful that gave her and the elves she looked after a definite advantage. Something that I am very familiar with.”

“She found an eluvian.”

“Not just one, it would seem. Briala acquired a key of sorts to the remainder of active eluvians and was using them to move her people across the empire. The Empress took me on as advisor much for the same reasons you did. Because I had knowledge and made myself useful."

"And now? Are you still of use to me? To the Empress?"

"Only time will tell." Morrigan turned to face Lavellan, a curious gleam lit her eyes. "I can no longer access the Crossroads."

A shudder rippled down the length of Lavellan's spine. "What do you mean?"

"The eluvians are locked.”

“And Briala is missing.” Lavellan fell back against the cold metal of the bench. How could she hope to defeat Solas when he had every advantage? And now assuming Briala had sided with him, he had the key to every active eluvian across Thedas making it nearly impossible to track him. It would explain why and how so many elves had suddenly gone missing. All of the pieces of the puzzle were laid out before her, she just couldn’t see how they all fit. It frustrated her to the point of tears.

He had to be stopped. And she had to be the person to do it if there was any chance to save him. Leliana and Cassandra had urged her to go to the Empress, to King Alistair, to the Tevinter Magister, or anyone with enough power to stop him but she refused. There was no alternate that kept Solas alive. And she couldn’t live with his blood on her hands. 

She couldn’t live in a world where he did not.

Morrigan returned to the bench next to Lavellan, the small yellow flower still twirling between her fingers. “I have more troubling news, I’m afraid.”

Lavellan turned her head a fraction. A shadow flickered across the witch's face and she realized that it was fear. Morrigan, Witch of the Wilds, Sorceress and advisor to the Empress was afraid.

“The voices from the Well of Sorrows have gone silent.”

"What do you mean?" A sickening feeling writhed in her gut. Another piece to this unsolvable puzzle. 

"Exactly what I said. I no longer hear their whispers."

"How can that be?"

Morrigan' shoulders slumped forward. She closed her eyes for the briefest moment. "I cannot say. Though I fear the implication much more than the silence." She inhaled sharply as if to steady herself. "I believe Flemeth to be dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am nearing the end of Part One and have a very clear picture of what happens in the last few chapter. Hopefully the that means the updates will come at a steadier pace as long as I can find some time to write! Thank you to everyone who has read and kept up with me!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and Morrigan work together to stop Solas.

"Dead?!" Dread crawled down Lavellan’s back and wrapped itself around her limbs, holding her in place. Flemeth dead? The Dalish knew her as Asha’bellanar, the Woman of Many Years, and her guidance was known far and wide across the clans. She still remembered the stories Deshanna had told of the woman around the campfire when she was still small. How could she be dead?

Morrigan shrugged, "I have found no trace of her since the voices from the well went silent.” 

Lavellan narrowed her eyes at the witch. “When exactly did this happen?” 

“Shortly after I parted ways with your Inquisition,” Morrigan said returning the glare. 

“And you didn’t think to inform me?” 

Fire burned in Morrigan’s yellow eyes. “Do not presume to think I am beholden to you. My actions are my own and I do not owe you any sort of explanation.” She folded her arms across her chest, seething. “I was not certain that the sudden silence was anything more than my fulfillment of the role Flemeth intended. ’Twas something I needed to be sure of before informing you and I have spent the last two years doing just that." 

“Don’t you think that information was something that should have been shared sooner? We could have sent the full force of the Inquisition to look for Flemeth. We might have been better prepared for Solas…” a sob caught in the back of Lavellan’s throat and she pressed her eyes shut against the tears. “Oh, Solas,” she murmured and covered her face with her hand as the sob broke free and the tears spilled down her cheeks. This had to be his doing. But why would he kill Flemeth? Why would he kill  _Mythal?_ Something didn’t feel right. He said he created the Veil because the other Evanuris killed Mythal. It didn’t make sense that he would do the same thing. 

Unless… 

It would explain why Solas was so much stronger now. Why he had been able to destroy the force of Qunari that invaded the Crossroads with a mere wave of his hand and how he now had enough power to destroy the Veil. She was so close to understanding this. The pieces of the puzzle assembled before her in her mind. Only one was missing before it was complete. If she could only figure this out before Solas was able to accomplish his goal, she could stop him. She could save him. 

Memories coalesced through the fog. Not very long ago he stood before her, powerful and strong; like the Elven Gods of old made flesh. But all she could see was the man she loved, not Fen'harel. How it had blinded her. She couldn’t let that happen again. 

Lavellan turned abruptly toward Morrigan. She wiped the remaining tears from her eyes before speaking. “Where is the one place Flemeth would hide something she wouldn’t want anyone to find?” 

“'Tis not an easy question to answer,” Morrigan replied, one eyebrow arched warily. “There are many places in this world for my mother to hide something, places that even I could never find.” 

“But if you were to guess. If you had to look for something that you _knew_ she would have hidden. Something she would have wanted to keep close. Where would you start your searching?” A frantic sort of energy sizzled in her veins. One more piece. That was all she needed. Just one more piece. 

“The Korcari Wilds, I suspect. She did reside there for an unusual amount of time, much to my confusion. Flemeth was never one for unnecessary fondness or affection, but she often said there was something special about the Wilds and I suspect she did not mean the Chasind who live there,” she chuckled lightly. 

“Morrigan, I need you to take me to the Korcari Wilds,” Lavellan stood and looked around the overgrown garden. This was bigger than the two of them. If she were to stop Solas, if she were to save him, she couldn’t do it from within the walls of Skyhold. Nor could she do it from the Fade. Thedas was waiting for her. 

The witch cocked her head to the side, strands of black concealing her gaze. “And what is that you think Flemeth hid in the Wilds?” 

Lavellan’s lips curled into a grin, one that was more cunning and dangerous than friendly. “I'll tell you when when we get there.” 

# 

A small breeze twisted through the reeds and willow trees, carrying a faint murmur along with it. There was magic in this place, deep magic. Old magic. A chill prickled the skin along Lavellan’s arm, giving her goose bumps. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and readjusted in her saddle. Weeks had past since they left Skyhold and Lavellan had greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to ride for such a long time one handed. The job would have been much worse without the custom saddle and reigns Harritt (with Dagna’s help) had made for her after she had lost her left hand. But they had made the journey. Now Lavellan needed just a little bit more luck. It had to be here. There was no other explanation for Solas’s actions. 

“Welcome to the Korcari Wilds, Lady Lavellan,” Morrigan purred as she manuevered her horse next to Lavellan’s “Is it everything you had imagined?” 

“You forget that I am Dalish. I came from places like this.” 

“Oh I have not forgotten, but how long has it been that you lived like your kin? Did you leave your sleeping habits behind as well as your marks to honor your gods?” 

Lavellan frowned at the witch. She had learned quite a lot about her over the last few weeks during their travels. It had been a surprise that she had been so forthcoming with her personal history. Mostly, Morrigan talked about her son Keiran. They had never been apart for so long and she had been hesitant leaving him behind at Skyhold with his tutors. If it weren’t for the old wards on the keep, Lavellan wasn’t certain she would have done so. Not even with the handful of extra guards Cullen had sent before their departure. 

“Well,” Morrigan continued, flicking the reigns of her horse and moving deeper into the swamp. “I have delivered you to the Wilds. “Tis time for you to uphold your end of the bargain as I have been patient enough.” She looked at Lavellan over her shoulder. "Why are we here?” 

There was no need to dance around the truth of the matter. If Lavellan wanted Morrigan’s help, she had to tell her their purpose. It was a risk, but one she had no choice but to take. She nudged her horse forward, catching up to her. “I believe Mythal had an orb of power like the Corypheus used to tear the veil. And I suspect it may be hidden somewhere among the Wilds.” 

Morrigan regarded her with a sharp gaze. “And you think Fen’Harel wishes to locate this orb and use it to further his plans.” 

“Solas,” Lavellan countered. “His name is Solas. And yes. More specifically, I believe either by choice or by force, Mythal gave up her essence to him so that he would have her power to unlock her orb.” All the determination slid off her shoulders and she curled inward. Saying it out loud was somehow worse. It made everything real and that much more dangerous. It made _him_ that much more dangerous. 

“So that he may use the power of the orb to rend the Veil and bring the raw fade to the lands of Thedas.” 

Lavellan gave a curt nod. 

“Well then, let us be off. The fate of the world awaits." 


End file.
